


And find the sweet bitter

by orphan_account



Category: Jonas Brothers
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Power Imbalance, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-01
Updated: 2011-03-01
Packaged: 2017-11-16 23:05:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick wants a ten minute pick-me-up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And find the sweet bitter

**Author's Note:**

> [Title reference](http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/avising-the-bright-beams/)

Nick kicked the door closed behind him. “I only have ten minutes, so we have to make this quick.”

His arms were solid, unrelenting bands across Joe’s biceps and chest. Joe could feel Nick’s warm breath puffing in his ear. Joe shifted , uncomfortable, tried to rub away the ticklish discomfort with a shoulder, but Nick only tightened his grip.

“Hey!” Joe squirmed until Nick released his hold on him, and turned to face Nick. “What’s your problem? I was in the middle of a conversation.”

And it had been an important one too. Nick was always all, _Joe, you need to work harder, take things more seriously._ With this really disappointed look on his face like it was so hard to be Nick Jonas and have to deal with his dopey older brother. But then when Joe did take the initiative, or, well, stood still without being made to and looked interested when people approached him about a project, Nick went and pulled and stunt like this.

Joe blew hair out of his face and crossed his arms. He knew he let Nick get away with a lot of stuff – it was no secret that Nick was his favourite – but he just wasn’t in the mood to cave to Nick’s demands. Getting dragged off by the scruff of his neck like some misbehaving _kid_ was something Nick needed to understand wasn’t acceptable. Maybe Joe let Nick boss him around at home because it wasn’t any great hardship and he liked making Nick happy, but he had to draw a line somewhere.

Okay, once he’d told Nick off he’d go back out and apologise to Geoffrey and Chris; they hadn’t left yet, he could hear the quiet murmur of their voices through the walls. Oh man, what they must have thought – “Those guys I was with? Were offering me a – ”

Nick undid his belt buckle and kicked off his shoes. He slid the belt out of his jeans’ belt-loops, the friction producing a _thwpp_ sound. He dropped it on the carpet. “A huh.”

“ – role in the movie they’re producing. Um. What are you _doing?_ ” Joe hissed, pushing the air in front of him as if he could make Nick stop through sheer force of will. His eyes darted around the little office like they weren’t completely alone except for the broken office chair in the corner and a desk covered in a layer of dust.

Nick caught one of Joe’s wrists in a hand, and used the other to stroke down Joe’s back, soothing, belying the way he squeezed Joe’s wrist in a too-tight grip: a warning. He pressed his body to Joe’s, ground against him. The front button of his jeans dug into Joe’s hip, and Joe could feel the lump beneath the material pressing insistently, could almost feel the needy heat of it searching for skin contact.

“Nick – ”

“Stop.” Nick’s voice was quiet but firm, confident of being obeyed. It irked Joe, who immediately opened his mouth to speak again but found it covered with a hand. He accidentally licked Nick’s palm but at least he got his wrist back.

“Take your clothes off.” Nick removed his hand.

Joe rubbed his sore wrist and gazed off to the side resentfully. Was Nick crazy? There were people right outside, people who could probably hear them. But despite that, Joe found himself stirring, stiffening a little in his underwear the way he always did when Nick became intent, his eyes darkening with want. He knew he was visibly affected because Nick’s expression turned lazy, self-satisfied. Irritated with himself and Nick, Joe tried to protest but was cut off.

“Ah!” Nick raised his eyebrows in warning and shook his head. He stood, legs spread slightly, the bulge in his trousers obvious, distracting.

“Not here! The door doesn’t have a lock, anyone could come in.” But as Nick waited, arms crossed, expectant, Joe started to unbutton his shirt reluctantly. Joe felt himself harden further and twitch, and his underwear felt sticky with excitement.

“Then you’d better hurry up. Lay your shirt down first, people will notice if you have carpet burn.”

By the time Joe was naked and lying on his back on the floor, Nick was still half-dressed. He’d stripped off his shirt and socks and undone his belt, but only unzipped his jeans. He’d taken his dick out of his boxers, stroking it while he watched Joe remove his own clothing. It was already hard, flushed, wet at the tip, and he was completely unself-conscious. He stroked himself a minute, slowly, cupping and squeezing, his eyes never leaving Joe.

It was a bit weird just laying there, naked and spread out, Nick staring at him and breathing kind of heavily. Nonetheless Joe felt himself stiffen fully until his cock felt fat and heavy, a Pavlovian response to the sight of Nick getting ready to fuck him.

The room was cold and Joe’s nipples pebbled into tiny, sensitive points. He covered his eyes with an arm and groaned, frustrated. He found himself clenching involuntarily in anticipation, could hear Nick opening the drawers of the desk, moving their contents around, searching for something.

“Got it.” Nick sounded triumphant.

Joe leaned up on his elbows to see what Nick was holding. It was a small tub of hand cream, some cheap brand from a chemist, not like the herbal-smelling stuff Joe favoured. “What would you have used if it hadn’t been there?”

Shrugging, Nick said, “I don’t know. Spit.”

Nick shoved his jeans and underwear around his thighs and spread Joe’s legs before dropping to his knees between them. His dick swayed between his legs as he did so, eager and flushed dark red. His movements were perfunctory as he scooped some cream and spread it on Joe’s opening.

“Cold! Be careful, Nick,” Joe hissed. He tried to wriggle away but Nick grabbed his leg with a slippery hand. He thumbed at Joe’s inner thigh with a light touch, disturbing the hairs there, and Joe gritted his teeth, toes curling. It wasn’t fair. Nick always had to be in control, learned what Joe liked then used it against him, playing him like a piano. He’d get Nick back for this later, thought Joe, glaring balefully.

“Seven minutes left. Nearly six. Do you want to get back out there or not?”

Joe dropped his gaze and bit his lip. “Just do it.”

The first thrust wasn’t careful or considerate; Nick positioned himself and just pushed and pushed until the head popped in, making Joe stretch to accommodate him. It felt like he was being split open, filled up almost too much; it burned until the stinging hurt edged into a good feeling. Finally, Nick was all the way in, his hips cradled between Joe’s legs, perfectly slotted. Nick grasped Joe’s hips with both hands and hauled until Joe’s arse was off the ground, canted.

He started fucking Joe properly. He went hard and fast so that Joe had to sit up and lock both arms behind him to stop himself sliding backwards. Nick didn’t ever pull out completely so Joe felt full throughout, felt every inch of Nick inside him. Joe groaned with each punishing thrust, half-breathless. Nick rutted thoughtlessly, mindless and intent on his own pleasure, but Joe felt himself responding to that sweet burn, that hot drag of skin on skin. He was so hard, leaking pre-come all over his belly, getting it smeared everywhere as Nick made his dick jerk and jolt with each thrust.

Soon it became too much – Joe’d always had a sensitive prostate and Nick was rubbing against it with each relentless stroke. He shivered with the feeling, not knowing if he wanted it to continue or not, but gradually the discomfort overwhelmed the pleasure. It just, it was too much; he could feel it everywhere, and it made him feel wrung out, overstimulated.

“Nick, stop, stop, slow down,” he moaned. “I can’t take it. Just, um, give me a break.”

Nick grunted, shook his head. His curls were getting sweaty, plastering to his forehead. He took one hand off Joe’s hip and planted it on the carpet, leaning forward. The effort became too much – Joe’s arms were trembling – and he stopped holding himself up, let himself lie fully on his back. He tried to give himself over to it and ignore his discomfort.

He locked a leg around Nick’s thigh and oh, yes, that was better, his dick was trapped between them, sliding between their stomachs, hot and slick. Joe felt almost smothered, completely surrounded by Nick, with Nick’s flushed face bare inches from him. Nick was inside him and outside – just – fucking everywhere –

He came helplessly, making these embarrassingly weak little sounds, spasming around Nick, who only gripped him tighter to prevent him from moving around too much. Nick’s hips never stopped their greedy little movements while Joe gradually wound down from his orgasm, sweaty and shaken.

Joe was boneless, so he let Nick do all the work until he finished too. Nick lost his rhythm and fucked into Joe a few, erratic times as he spilt inside him. Joe clearly felt when Nick came, felt the warm wetness slowly slide out of his body after Nick withdrew. It stung a bit; Nick had been rough. He’d left bruises on Joe.

A handkerchief found its way onto Joe’s lap and he blinked lazily up at Nick. His mouth looked red and used; he’d probably been biting it near the end, not wanting to be loud enough to be heard through the walls.

“Clean yourself up as best as you can. It’s time to get back to work.”


End file.
